


Always Kiss Your Heroes

by Chancy_Lurking



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Lives, Celebrity Crush, Dating, Developing Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Happy, M/M, Miscommunication, Protective Steve Rogers, Rare Pairings, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chancy_Lurking/pseuds/Chancy_Lurking
Summary: “You’re not gonna call him, right?” Clint asks, face pinched as they watch Deadpool sprint off, muttering to himself about whether or not he should reserve an entire movie theater.Steve looks down at the WWW ❤ and phone number hastily scrawled on the back of a toy store receipt and decides all at once. “Sure, I am,” he replies, tucking the number in his pocket, before challenging the universe just to watch Tony’s face as he does it. “What’s the worst that could happen?”As it turns out, the worst thing is that he prepared himself for the worst and was blindsided by…decidedly not that.(Steve agrees to go on date with Wade just to say thanks for a favor. Somehow, that winds up being a love story.)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Wade Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	Always Kiss Your Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Does this count as a rare pair? Probably.
> 
> Also, I made Tony a dick in this so if that’s gonna bug you, maybe ixnay on reading this particular story.

Steve wasn’t really trying to make a statement when he agreed to go on a date with Wade, but he’s gotta say, he’s not opposed to the statement being made.

In all honesty, Steve can’t call Wade a _decent_ person, but he is… _nice_. Like helping-old-ladies-cross-the-street and tying-little-kids’-shoes nice. Or the kind of nice where if Steve calls him at 3 am trying to sound like _Captain America_ and not an exhausted 27-year-old alarmingly close to a breakdown, Wade answers the phone. And stays on the line as long as it takes him to break into Steve’s apartment with tacos and loud talking to fill the horrible silence.

That all happens after, though, much later.

Wade makes himself known in the middle of a losing fight when Steve doesn’t have time to do more than jump in front of civilians with the shield and shout orders and warnings to any masked do-gooder in earshot.

Deadpool is probably a far cry from a _do-gooder_ , but he does jump in and grab the babies and little old ladies before they can get splattered across the pavement. Listening to warnings doesn’t go so well, but Steve realizes after watching him get shot a dozen times and complain about the bloodstains on his new boxers that maybe he doesn’t need to push that particular issue right now.

Steve has an idea that borders on reckless and everyone is shouting at him not to do it instead of hearing out the plan. He needs to get down in the crater, inside the ship so he can pull the plug from the source. He needs help, not a lecture so he shouts across to Deadpool, “Can you hold the line?”

“For you? Me and my boner would do anything,” Deadpool says cheerfully, tossing up a jaunty salute with his gun that makes Steve wince.

Thing is, he does though. Deadpool makes a way for him, provides the cover fire he needs to go sprinting across the battle field. Clint swears in his ear piece and helps, but as promised, Deadpool doesn’t let anything sneak up behind Steve, doesn’t let anything out past him. And Steve is _right_ —because he usually fucking is—and manages to shut down the portal with several well-placed hits from the shield. The flood of intruders stops and those already out are left floundering without their communication system. It makes for a much easier fight.

Deadpool is down to just his katanas when Steve makes it back outside, but there’s a lot less chaos to field now. Natasha has showed up too, looking less than impressed with that little stunt, but she doesn’t say anything, ducks when Steve sends the shield sailing at a bot behind her while she shoots down three others.

Tony is less inclined to hold his tongue. “JARVIS, be sure to schedule an MRI for Steve,” his modulated voice declares loudly as he lands. His helmet opens for Steve to see the annoyance on his face. “I think Wilson’s brain rot might be contagious.”

“ _Jesus_ , Stark!” Steve snaps, because that’s a little more hostile than Steve has come to expect from him. “What’s your problem?”

“I have a few,” Tony replies, looking up. Deadpool starts laughing behind Steve before Tony’s attitude can properly wind him up. “Speaking of which…”

“Don’t mind TinMan, Cap, you were always my favorite anyw—Christ on a Pringle,” Deadpool cuts himself off when he gets close. “You’re so much prettier in person. I thought _I_ of all people had looked at enough pictures to prepare myself, but…” He whistles sharply. “ _God._ ”

Steve feels his face twist towards a smile, isn’t sure if startled flattery or mildly uncomfortable confusion wins over the expression. “Thank you?” he coughs, extending his hand. “For the help, I mean. I couldn’t have done that without you.”

Wade straightens up as he takes his hand. “Just the help? If my compliments aren’t up to par, I can try again when I cash in my I.O.U. from Captain America.”

“I don’t think I offered you an I.O.U.,” Steve says lightly, more amused than concerned, even when Wade doesn’t let go of his hand.

“ _Aw_ , come on, I’m a cheap date, it won’t even be a biggie.”

Steve plays dumb. “You want to take me on a _date_?” he asks and it’s more than a little gratifying to watch Deadpool’s train of thought go into a tailspin.

“Uhhh I’m sorry, be still my star-spangled heart,” Deadpool exclaims dramatically, actually clutches his chest. “Is that option on the table in reality or just in my dreams? Because I already have plans.”

Well, it wouldn’t be the worst idea Steve’s had. He can handle _one_ date, even a date with Deadpool. If nothing else, it’ll make a hell of a story to tell. “Sure,” he shrugs. “If it’s worth burning your I.O.U. on, go for it.”

“Steve…” Clint warns, in a tone that’s maybe even a little disturbed, but Deadpool is already squealing. Like, he legitimately lets go of Steve’s hand to hold his own cheeks and breathlessly shriek like he’s dying.

“ _Seriously???_ ”

Steve can’t help but laugh a little, even as he shrugs. “Sure, pal. It’s Wilson, right?”

“ _Pssh,_ please. Wilson was my father, probably,” Wade waves him off. “You can call me Wade. Actually, you can call me whatever you want, but my name is Wade Winston Wilson. At your service!” he bows with a flourish.

“Well, I guess you know I’m Steve,” Steve says redundantly. “So, where are you taking me?”

That earns him another mental tailspin, Deadpool launching into a dozen half-thought-out ideas before promising him an alarmingly ambiguous good time and leaving him with his phone number.

“You’re not gonna call him, right?” Clint asks, face pinched as they watch Deadpool sprint off, muttering to himself about whether or not he should reserve an entire movie theater.

Steve looks down at the _WWW_ ❤ and phone number hastily scrawled on the back of a toy store receipt and decides all at once. “Sure, I am,” he replies, tucking the number in his pocket, before challenging the universe just to watch Tony’s face as he does it. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

As it turns out, the worst thing is that he prepared himself for the worst and was blindsided by…decidedly not that.

Steve’s mistake was thinking he’d have to muscle through it. To plaster on the Captain America™ smile and play the charming, old-timey hero Wade so obviously has a crush on. He was willing to do that, if for no more reason than, well, he _does_ owe Wade one.

That’s not what happens, though.

They don’t wind up seeing a movie, because apparently Wade wants to be able to “ _stare at him without it being obscenely creepy or in the dark_ ” so they wind up flickering from place to place. They have lunch on the top of a taco truck, the owner seemingly unperturbed by this turn of events and entirely unimpressed by _America’s Biggest Gringo_. Wade only folds his mask up far enough to eat, but Steve decides not to question how weird that is given that he’s not even wearing the rest of the suit. Steve’s not blind, he sees the extensive scarring all over his visible skin, but doesn’t let himself focus on it. It’ll come up if it comes up.

More importantly, Wade is _really funny._ A lot of it is the kind of crass, gross shit people normally hesitate to say around _Mr. Captain America Sir_ or whatever. Wade has no filter and doesn’t try to construct one for Steve’s benefit.

Steve is laughing harder than he has in a very long time, like _before the ice_ long time.

Even when Wade gets him a pair of roller skates—after he confesses he never learned how—and they wind up in a heap at the bottom of a half-pipe Steve never should’ve let Wade talk him into trying.

“Okay, okay, but really,” Wade is saying, carrying their skates in one hand and a Tweety-Bird popsicle in the other, walking noisily beside him in bright purple flipflops. “You’re like, an actual peach. I must’ve gotten jaded in my old age or something, I thought you’d just be humoring me. You’re not, right?” he looks over at Steve, “I got the feeling you weren’t. You laugh different.”

“Different than when?” Steve asks, looking down in amusement at the Hello Kitty bandaid on his elbow. He hadn’t really needed it, but Wade insisted.

Wade affects his voice into a nasally soprano, speaking into his ice cream like a microphone. “ _Oh, Captain, I’m sure all the modern women are simply swooooning at your old-timey wiles!_ ” Then he gives an annoyingly accurate imitation of Steve’s politest fake laugh.

Steve’s face hurts from laughing today, but that does nothing to stop him from chuckling again. “Yeah, well, for starters you’re being… a real person,” he answers, then shrugs, “and I actually like you.” He pauses with his ice cream half into his mouth when Wade abruptly stops walking, staring at him. “What?”

“Is this a dream?” Wade asks.

“I don’t think so,” Steve answers lightly, smirking at him. “We can try it one more time to be sure, though.”

One date, turns into two, three, and four with increasing numbers of phone calls and texts in between.

Wade is a mess, but he makes for good company, proves time and time again that he can be counted on as a friend. It’s not often that Steve genuinely gets to feel like just a person—not The Captain, or a hero, or an icon for The Good Fight—and he misses it. The fact that _Wade_ is the one that does it for him is bizarre given how he idolized Cap when he was a kid (and then had an “ _unrepentant hero boner_ ” for him as an adult). Still, there’s something very humbling about Deadpool climbing in his window to bring Steve take out after a shitty mission. Steve is absolutely in his boxers and tube socks and just wants to go to bed, but letting ‘Pool talk shit for an hour actually lets him sleep easier.

Everyone seems to have some kind of commentary about this, but Steve is very good at digging in his heels.

“I thought you were supposed to be a boy scout,” Tony says in lieu of a greeting when he spots him backstage at their latest press event. “Hanging out with actual, literal psychotic criminals isn’t going to look good on your _resume_.”

Steve is almost feeling mean enough to point out the crimes he and Tony are down on record for. “You trying to say _he’s_ the worst you’ve come across?” he says, “That’s really a lie you want to tell after everything?”

It’s maybe still an ugly thing to say, but Wade, like the rest of them, is trying to be better. Wade didn’t build bombs and war machines; he was made into one and feels every second of that making every second of the day.

Tony must feel exactly what Steve was implying, though, because his face goes stormy. “Do _you_ plan to _come across_ him?”

 _That_ bait Steve doesn’t rise to. Doesn’t want to give Tony the ammunition of knowing— _yeah, he sure would, but_ —he still hasn’t seen his entire _face_. Wade just asked him if he was ‘wooed enough’ for him to kiss him _last week_. Of course, he was, and still spends embarrassingly long snatches of time daydreaming about the scar-softness of Wade’s lips, the way he kisses with a gentleness nobody else would expect from him.

Tony doesn’t need to know any of that.

Clint gives it a shot later, trying to keep his body in a casual slouch as he walks beside Steve. “Look, I’m not saying I _hate_ the guy—”

“Good, because I’m not listening,” Steve cuts him off, thinking about how Wade is casually teaching him ASL because Clint’s losing his hearing. (And, also Wade didn’t want Steve to feel left out of his and Peter’s conversations, but _still_. Jesus.) He’s by no means fluent, but knows enough to sign to Clint, [W-a-d-e,] he spells out, then throws up a w-hand sliding into the sign for _gorgeous_ ; a rather unkind joke, but one Wade has very much leaned into. [Wade thinks highly of you. Thinks you’re _friends_.]

Clint stops walking to stare at him, motionless in his surprise. [He thinks everyone who doesn’t _hate_ him is his friend,] he signs back, then winces a little. “Doesn’t mean they always get what a risk that is.”

Natasha is the one to tell him bluntly, looking at the picture of them at Coney Island Wade pinned to his fridge, “You’re going to have to pick one day.”

“No, I’m not,” Steve sighs, putting down his fork to rub his face. “I invited you over for dinner, not to lect—”

“Even if he doesn’t _ask_ you to pick,” Natasha interrupts him to continue, “his line of work doesn’t leave a lot of lines he won’t cross.”

“Speaking from experience?” Steve shoots, a little nastier than he really would like, but he would like this conversation to be over even more.

“Yes,” Natasha answers coolly. “And even if he doesn’t ask you to, one day it’s going to come down to looking the other way or arresting him.”

Lately, Deadpool has been relatively tame compared to the files Phil sent Steve in his own stiff attempt to make him _see reason_ or whatever. He’s been on his best behavior, no reckless endangerment, criminal destruction of property, _or_ casualties.

Steve doesn’t know how long that will last, but given that S.H.I.E.L.D. is a flaming heap in the wake of its Nazi infestation right now, it isn’t exactly like they can take a moral high ground.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” Steve says finally, because there isn’t much he _wouldn’t_ talk to Wade about. Natasha gives him a pitying look and it rankles him. “Do you want to eat with me or not, Nat? I don’t want to do this with you.”

Natasha accepts that even if her eyes say it’s only for now.

Peter is outside his apartment waiting for him the next day.

Steve sees the look on his face and just sighs. “Not you, too.”

Peter looks caught, but instead of scrambling to apologize or back down he just stands up straighter. “I’m not gonna preach to you, okay? It’s just… Please be good to him?”

That pulls Steve up short, takes the fire right out of his fight. “What?”

“He’s just—I get that Mr. Stark doesn’t like me being around him, but he’s only ever looked out for me. Especially when it really counted,” Peter gets out in a rush, before he shrugs, looking away. “He’s not a good guy, but he is _good_ , you know? And he’s been through enough, so…” He looks at Steve head on, like he half wants to beg and half wants to threaten, “be good to him. Please.”

If Steve’s heels hadn’t been dug in before, everything about this conversation would’ve locked him in place. He squeezes the kid’s shoulder. “I’ll do my best, Peter.”

Wade has taken him up onto the rooftop of his apartment building for a dinner date when Steve finally brings it up.

“So, you’ve been well-behaved lately…” Steve starts.

“Mm?” Wade says, before speaking around a mouthful of pizza. “Can I chang’ tha’?” he asks in genuine confusion.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Chew your food before you choke—I know you can’t die, do it anyway,” he interrupts. “I’m not saying change that, I’m… I think I’m saying thanks?”

Wade stares at him, humming and chewing slowly. “I know the score,” he says eventually.

“And what’s that?”

“If I get arrested, you’d have to stage a daring jailbreak that would ruin your reputation as America’s Sweetheart worse than hanging out with me already does. We’d have to take up false identities and move to Poland, but you don’t speak Polish,” Wade answers sadly. “ _I_ don’t even speak Polish, it seems like a hard language to learn on the fly just to get me out of trouble.”

“I’m not gonna get you out of trouble,” Steve warns him, but he’s smiling. It’s a half truth. Steve would get him out of a _little_ trouble.

Wade looks at him in mock offence. “And I _never_ get in trouble!”

Steve barely dignifies that with an eyeroll. He puts his hand Wade’s knee. “Just try not to kill anyone, alright?” he says seriously. “If you get caught for any felonies, I can’t help you.”

That—either the touch or the words—stuns Wade apparently, because he can’t even respond at first. “…That the only rule?”

“You wouldn’t do anything worse than that,” Steve says with more confidence than he should probably have, but it doesn’t feel like a lie.

Wade doesn’t seem to have a response for that. Eventually, he just settles his hand over Steve’s. “…What if I just kill pedos?”

Steve’s face wrinkles, but he considers his answer. “Get a full confession first.”

“You’re the _real_ American Dream,” Wade kisses the back of his hand and it makes Steve warm all over.

Playing the game of plausible deniability with his basically-boyfriend who has previously gone on public record as a mercenary doesn’t look like good odds. Steve knows what it looks like on paper, but he doesn’t always work by the books.

Sometimes he offhandedly mentions something that someone is willing to pay for that, really, the American government and its agents ‘ _can’t’_ get involved in. It’s a poorly kept secret among the Avengers that Steve has Deadpool doing cleanup that S.H.I.E.L.D. has pulled them off of; stealing back stolen property, protecting informants and smuggling whistleblowers out from under their government’s radar, putting the _fear of God_ into officials who are having trouble walking the line of legality. That last one is an amazing feat of irony, but Wade seems to enjoy it most.

“Ya know, I’m starting to feel a little like a sugar baby,” Wade says, when he comes back from one of Steve’s missions—through the window because he still has no manners.

Steve never expects _normal_ greetings from Wade, just like he never expects to be able to follow the thread of Wade’s conversation right away. He’s used to having laughter startled out of him at this point and if Wade isn’t bothered, he isn’t going to stop now. “What, why?”

“I know you don’t want me to _unalive_ people anymore, but I didn’t think it’d be this _lucrative_ ,” Wade says and, per a previous conversation, his swords are clean when he sits them on the floor under Steve’s couch. He rolls his mask up some. “Being your kept boy is keeping me out of the poor house,” he tells him earnestly, kissing him.

“Is that a problem?” Steve asks, because he _is_ sending Wade jobs to supplement his income minus murder/mutilation, but he doesn’t want it to come off like… “I’m not trying to buy you, Wade.”

“Pfft, _buy me_. Ha!” Wade laughs, waving his hand dismissively before making himself at home on Steve’s couch. Steve is well-versed enough in Wade’s mannerisms to drop his sketch pad away from his pencil before Wade can reach for him. Smiling, he lets himself be tugged under Wade’s arm, leans into the noisy kiss smacked against his temple. “I was yours the second you spoke to me, Stevie.”

_Stevie._

…It’s not something they’ve talked about, so it’s nothing Wade would’ve known not to do.

Honestly, it’s not even something _Steve_ knew he needed Wade not to do.

It’s just—Steve has a number of nicknames, the Avengers alternate through a whole list of them, but ‘ _Stevie_ ’ hasn’t been on rotation since— _since Bucky—_

Wade must feel the change, because he sits back a little, carefully takes his arms off Steve. “Uh-oh. Hi, whoops, what happened? What’d I say?”

“Dunno if—” Steve doesn’t know how to articulate how that nickname stokes his hairs the wrong way, stokes grief into a brighter flare in his stomach without sounding ungrateful. “Don’t think I like being called that, I—sorry, it’s—”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Wade is quick to say, “It’s okay, it’s chill, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I know, I just—Bucky is the only…” Steve stumbles into admitting the truth, but Wade gets the picture, realization lighting his face.

“Oh. Oh, shit, I didn’t—” he starts, but continues before the apology all over Steve’s face can come out his mouth. “No, no, it’s okay, I can come up with more. You like Shnookums, right?” He asks and Steve laughs a little brokenly, just imagining the look on Bucky’s face if Wade ever had the chance to say that in front of him.

“ _Wade_ ,” he chuckles, leaning into Wade’s shoulder, soothed when he immediately hugs him in close.

“What about Sugar Tits? You’re in my phone as _American Dreamsicle_ , is that okay? I can make a list, how’s Goldie Locks? Why are you laughing? Do you like them?”

Wade does wind up keeping a list. Steve catches a glimpse of it later in Wade’s pocketbook under ‘ _Names That Clear BAE’s No-No List_ ’ and something tender and adoring tightens in Steve’s throat.

“It’s too early to talk about love,” Steve says to Sam a few weeks later when Wade is off on a mission. He’s lying in the grass with both hands over his face.

Sam is the only friend he has who hasn’t given him shit about their relationship yet. Or, well, yeah, he has, but no different than the kind they usually serve each other. Case in point, in response to that, he just snorts as he continues stretching. “No? He’s been in love with you since before you met. You should probably be married now.”

“ _Christ,_ don’t put that idea in his head,” Steve groans, laughing a little, because Wade planning a wedding is the funniest nightmare he could imagine.

“Why not? Would you say yes?”

Steve doesn’t think so. “I mean—no?”

“Oh my _God_ , you hesitated,” Sam laughs uproariously. “You’re truly whipped, aren’t you?”

The joke is less funny two weeks later when Steve can’t get Wade to answer the fucking phone.

Steve gets home from the latest mission with the Avengers and sees a note on his fridge stuck under a _Pinkie Pie_ magnet and a few pizza coupons: _“Late weekend at the office, honey! Don’t wait up! Smooches, WWW_!” So, Steve just smiles, shaking his head as he calls in his dinner order and doesn’t worry. Not until another week passes in silence and Steve realizes he doesn’t really know _which_ weekend Wade left that note.

They’re not always right in each other’s pockets, they can’t be. They have separate jobs, even when they tangentially overlap. They have separate lives and friendships to maintain. Steve has gone days without hearing from Wade before, but never more than a week of complete radio silence. Even if it’s just a string of emojis or a stupid meme he struggles to decipher, Wade _always_ lets him know he’s okay. Not being able to die means there are a lot of ways to give Wade a really, _really_ bad time. For a long time.

So, Steve is more than a little worried.

Clint is maybe trying to mend bridges, to be comforting when he says, “Wade wouldn’t just dip on you.”

Steve doesn’t let his face change, standing behind the image of _The Captain_ to try and keep it together, but…Clint’s a friend who knows him better than that. He frowns when Steve says, “That’s why I’m worried.” Clint knows the score, too, even if the game doesn’t matter as much to him; he just squeezes Steve’s shoulder.

It’s taking a lot of effort on Steve’s part to not descend into paranoia. He asks Phil, just the once, if Deadpool has been detained and Phil doesn’t hesitate to say he would’ve brought any new arrests to Steve immediately. Steve pretends it would’ve been out of the kindness of his heart, not just to make a point about his choice in partners. His nerves are truly fraying enough that even Tony hasn’t decided to poke this particular bruise, because Steve doesn’t know what to do, where to start. He hasn’t given Wade any cleanup jobs lately, so he doesn’t have a good guess about where Wade could’ve gone. The likelihood that he just _lost_ his phone and is out in the wilderness somewhere hoofing it back is not _impossible_ , but so improbable Steve is constantly cycling through worst case scenarios.

Sleep isn’t coming easy these days anyway, so when his emergency tone starts ringing just before 4 in the morning, it’s honestly a relief.

“Rogers,” he sighs, sitting up.

“ _We got him,_ ” Phil says immediately and Steve is already on his feet.

“Wade? Got him _where_? What happ—?

“ _Not Wilson,_ ” Phil interrupts. “ _We got_ Barnes _._ ”

Abruptly, Steve’s room doesn’t have quite enough air. He puts a hand up against the doorframe when he feels the floor shift under his feet. “You have _Bucky_?” he croaks.

“ _Largely unharmed and all wrapped up in a bow_.”

Steve staggers into a jog. “Where?”

Apparently, delivered to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ along with a massive stack of classified Hydra documents relating to the Super Soldier project.

They don’t paint a pretty picture.

It’s some kind of miracle that Bucky is conscious right now, but he’s also got a weapons grade signal jammer—tied with an actual bow—in his metal hand which is apparently the primary reason why. Between Bruce, Tony, and all remaining S.H.I.E.L.D. techs who didn’t get fired after they purged the Hydra moles, it takes them days to figure out how to get the arm off Bucky once they realize it’s drugging him. And also rigged to kill him upon tampering.

Steve isn’t doing well.

But Bucky is actually lucid enough to try and help sometimes. “Hey pal, you’re looking a little green,” he jokes, slurring slightly where they’ve got him restrained, the metal arm open in places to show the wiring beneath the chassis. “It’s not your best color.”

 _Steve isn’t doing well_ , but Bucky is here and he’s alive and Steve could just cry. “What d’ya mean? I put it on just for you.”

It’s going to be a long road to recovery, but Bucky isn’t in too many pieces to start walking it. Starting with ditching the fucking arm and getting his head on straight enough to cough up any crimes he’s aware of as a part of his plea bargain. His memory is swiss cheese some days, but he remembers Steve. He remembers Steve and that he’s a safe person to trust, which means Steve does his best to never leave his side.

There are some ugly things that get aired out, but Steve listens.

All the moving pieces of Bucky’s return to the world of the living steal most of Steve’s energy, enough that he doesn’t get to spend every waking hour pining over Wade who _still hasn’t contacted him_. Steve knows Bucky can tell something is wrong, but there are so many things wrong, it doesn’t really come up until Tony runs his mouth again.

For however instrumental he’s been in Bucky getting the toxic tech out of his body, he’s kept up a running commentary about him being _The Cold War Boogie Man_ that Bucky accepts with an admirable lack of violence _._

They’re in the process of fitting Bucky for a new prosthesis when Tony sighs, “Well, at least there’ll only be _one_ lunatic around since Cap and Deadpool broke up.”

The words run cold down Steve’s chest and he really, _really_ thinks he could knock Tony’s lights out for that, but his train of thought gets side tracked when Bucky looks up, confused.

“Deadpool?” he repeats. “The… chatty zombie?”

They all jerk to look at him. “You met him?” Steve asks a little more sharply than he means to.

Bucky blinks at the tone, squinting at him. “What the hell are you on about? He’s the one…” He hesitates, taking in their confused and shocked faces. “You… didn’t send him?”

“Send him _where_?” Steve asks, completely flabbergasted.

“To find _me_ ,” Bucky clarifies. “Guy couldn’t shut up about you the whole time, I thought…” Steve isn’t sure what his face does, but it makes Bucky trail off. “You didn’t know.”

Steve feels something massive swelling in his chest and he doesn’t have a name for all of it. Most of it has to be love, yes, indisputably love, but it’s also confusion and _gratefulness_ and something like _heartbreak_. Because Deadpool is safe, he came back, he brough _Bucky_ back and just…left? Like he thought…

“Steve,” Bucky says and Steve realizes he isn’t quite breathing right for the first time since the 40s. He fights the tunnel vision back when Bucky’s flesh hand squeezes around his wrist. “Hey, breathe for me, Stevie.”

“ _Christ,_ ” Steve laughs like a sob that startles his lungs back into working. “Buck, we didn’t send Wade— _Deadpool_. I haven’t even heard from him in weeks. If I’d know where either of you were, I’d’ve come myself.”

Nobody knows what to do with that and Steve is in too much of a whirlwind to try and clear the air.

Bucky speaks up first. “Sounds like you better go find him.”

Tony turns back to the screen he’d been working on. “Or, you know, like I said, one feral stray is really more than—”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky interrupts before Steve’s temper can jump out his mouth. He looks annoyed, too, but when Steve meets his gaze, he gives him a bemused half-smile. “You got some interesting tastes since we last spoke, pal.”

Steve flushes. He’s not embarrassed of Wade, truly he’s not, but he knows what he’s like for someone to deal with for the first time. He also has no clue what he said to Bucky about him, about _them_. “He’s…” he starts to defend, unsure where to even start that isn’t, _the best thing that’s happen to me this decade_.

But Bucky is already shaking his head. “I don’t really care what he is,” he admits with a shrug. “If the guy went to the trouble of tracking me down just because he cares about you _that much_ , he’s alright with me.” He sits back from where he’d been leaning towards Steve. “Go get him.”

Steve wants Wade like a physical ache in his chest, but he doesn’t know how to take his eyes off Bucky for however long it’d take to find him. He’s a dream sitting here, his best friend come back to life. “Bucky, I…”

“I’ll be okay. If I get bored, I’ll even call birdman,” Bucky offers because they both know Sam would come even if just for the chance to harass him. He shrugs the shoulder not currently being imaged, softens his voice. “You want him home, right?”

“Yeah, of course, I…” Steve clears his throat when it gets tight. He’s gone a month without touching Wade, without even knowing if he’s _okay_. “Yeah.”

“Then go bring him home.”

Steve isn’t strong enough to turn down the chance. He claps Bucky gratefully on the shoulder, takes him in—as whole as he can be and safe in Stark Towers—and turns out of the room. To his credit, he waits until he’s outside to start running. Wade isn’t at home, but it does look like he’s been here and he hasn’t changed the locks, so that’s good. He called Wade twice on the way here, but he still hasn’t answered, so he tries Peter.

“Hey, Peter, it’s—”

“ _Oh, hi Cap! Hey, so okay_ ,” Peter starts in a rush, “ _Wade absolutely told me not to tell you, but he also said you wouldn’t even call me, so he’s in the skate park on Airline and I never, ever told you that._ ” He pauses for a half-second. “ _That is why you’re calling, right? I didn’t think you’d dumped him, but he’s singing sad love songs and—_ ”

That is such a fucking Wade move Steve is nearly beside himself with affection and frustration. Leave it to this clown to think Steve has been carrying a torch for Bucky this whole time based off _one_ nickname, for fuck’s sake. He’s fairly certain he never even _suggested_ Bucky swung that way and this absolute idiot still thought Steve would just up and _dump him_ once Bucky was— _unbelievable_. The lack of communication is truly unparalleled. Steve is entirely in love with this moron.

“I’m not dumping him, he’s being an idiot,” he rescues Peter from his continued rambling. “Thanks, Peter, I’ll have him call you back.”

The skate park on Airline, the site of their first date, is a fifteen-minute walk that Steve turns into a six-minute sprint. He hears Wade before he sees him.

“ _YOU SHOULD BE WITH HIM I CAN’T COMPEEEEETE!!_ ” Wade is singing at the top of his voice as he rolls by in his bright purple roller skates. It’s so disgustingly on brand that Steve has to just watch for a second.

Then he steps into Wade’s path and gets to watch the physical manifestation of a records scratch shoot through Wade’s body as he skids to a stop. “Uhhhhhhh.”

Striding towards Wade, Steve feels increasingly perturbed by how far away he is, even as he gets closer. “Wade.”

Wade watches this, frozen. “Uhhhh hey there, Captain Underpants, what’s—?”

Steve kisses him. His mask is in the way and probably filthy, but Steve doesn’t actually care right now. Wade makes a startled sound, but settles his hands tight on Steve’s waist. They stay there even when Steve fumbles open the clasp at the back of Wade’s neck to roll the mask up to his nose and kiss him stupid. _Stupider_.

Wade is shaking a little when Steve finally can convince himself to let them breathe. “You know,” he starts, still clinging to Steve, “You know, I kinda thought I was out of the picture now…”

That confirmation sparks a pain in Steve so sharp it nearly makes him cry and he’s not even sure who he’s hurting for. “ _No,_ ” he says, a little too aggressively. He takes Wade by the face and tries again, softer, right against Wade’s lips, “No, Wade, _God_. I’ve been worried _sick_ since you left.”

The silence between them feels stunned and fragile. “You know I can’t die, right?”

“That means a lot worse things could’ve been happening to you,” Steve snaps, a little annoyed. “You could’ve just _talked_ to me, Wade.”

“This is actually the one time I didn’t want to make it hard for you,” Wade defends. “I didn’t wanna get in the middle of the greatest love story ever told.”

“Yeah, well, if you had talked to me about it, you’d know Bucky and I were never _in_ love,” Steve says, pushing Wade back a step before he can get lost in how badly he wants to hug him and never let him go, because he feels like crying. “Wade, I can never thank you enough for getting him back, because you brought back my best friend, my _brother_. Not your _competition_ , Jesus…”

Wade stares at him. “So, reading fanfiction really led me astray, huh?” he jokes and Steve isn’t sure what his face does, but Wade immediately looks contrite. “Okay, no heehee, not funny, I’m—I’m sorry?”

“I thought—” Steve has thought so many horrible things, he can’t get any of them out past the sudden tightness of his throat. When Wade pulls him forward Steve goes, tips his face into Wade shoulder. “If you want to leave—”

“I don’t, baby, I promise, I’m crazy, but not…” he trails off, “Okay, apparently I’m a little stupid, too, but—”

“I mean _ever_ , Wade, promise…” Steve doesn’t bother asking for forever, not when he lives a life that won’t let him promise it in return. “Promise me you’ll tell me before you go.”

“In whatever weird and horrible alternate universe where I would willingly walk away from you, I promise I at least write you a _Dear John_ letter,” Wade promises quietly, right against Steve’s ear. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, Steve. I’m here, I’m with you in like…the scary, whole-hearted, made-for-TV kinda way that maybe probably involves the L-word.”

Steve laughs, feeling lighter already, feeling more together in Wade’s arms than he has since they’d been separated. “No probably for me,” he says, kissing Wade’s jaw before he stands upright, taking his hand. He doesn’t wait for him to say anything on it, takes the gob smacked look on his face with grace. “Can I ask you for something?”

“ _Yeah!_ ” Wade squeaks, then only slightly less high pitched, “Yeah, anything, babe, a unicorn would take some work or at least some hot glue, but sure, _anything_.”

“Can we call it a day?” Steve smiles. “I haven’t been…” He rubs the back of his head, vaguely aware of a faint headache he’s been ignoring. “I’m tired. It’s been a long month.”

Wade’s mouth twists like there’s another apology in it, but Steve kisses him before he can get it out. He thinks there may be some people watching by now, maybe even taking pictures. He’s probably going to get one hell of an earful from the PR team about it, but he’s willing to finally have the big, official fight about Wade. He’d fight anyone to keep his life as full as it is at this exact moment.

After he gets some sleep.

They go back to Bucky first, but he takes one look at Steve from where he’s seated next to Sam and shakes his head. “Hey ‘Pool, take Cap to bed, would you?”

Wade looks surprised, but plays up his excitement. “Is that your blessing to defl— _uff!_ ” he cuts off when Steve swats him in the stomach. “Hey!”

Sam snorts at Bucky’s glare. “I’ll babysit this one,” he tells Steve, nodding at Bucky. “Get some rest, man. We all love you, but you look like shit.”

Steve sneers at him. “Gee, thanks, buddy,” he says. When Wade reaches for him, he’s expecting a hug and isn’t properly braced for being tossed over the man’s shoulder. It’s not like many people can pull off a stunt like that, and even those few, not without serious effort on their part. He gets a headrush. “ _Woah!_ ”

“See you in the morning, fellow crime fighters! I’ve got an icon to bed! I mean, _put_ to bed!” Wade calls cheerfully, turning down the hall towards Steve’s room with unnerving accuracy. “Which doesn’t sound much cleaner because I didn’t mean it to!”

“ _Wade,_ ” Steve complains, but he isn’t really too keen on knocking Wade to the ground just to get out of his arms. “I’m not too tired to _walk_.”

“Well, I’m even less tired and thereby not too tired to carry you, sweet cheeks,” Wade informs him chipperly, patting the back of Steve’s thigh. “Left or right? I wasn’t sure about this bit.”

Steve doesn’t bother to ask how he could know about any of the bits of Stark Towers. “Left.”

Generally, Steve doesn’t favor the tower over his own apartment, so the design feels a little like living in a template, plus a few things Steve has acquired since Bucky has been politely put on house arrest. The bed is nice, though, and Steve wants nothing more than to sink into it until the sun rises tomorrow, who cares if it’s barely past noon.

“This is very oldies chic,” Wade observes. “Is there a gramophone, too?”

“No, but there is a record player,” Steve replies, patting Wade’s back. “You wanna let me down?”

“No, I do _not_ wanna,” Wade answers petulantly.

Steve laughs. “ _Will you_ please put me down, hon?” he asks, squirming a little. “It’ll be a little hard to _deflower_ me with our clothes on.” He smirks at the way Wade reflexively squeezes him a bit tighter, standing stiff as a statue soldier.

“That-that was a joke, Mr. Sassy Pants,” Wade babbles, but sets Steve’s feet on the ground. He looks like he may be about to make a run for it. “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t just—”

“I know,” Steve says patiently, patting Wade’s chest. “I still want you out of your clothes, if that’s something on the table.” And only partly because Steve doesn’t trust that his suit has been washed any time recently, especially not if Wade was having an elongated breakup montage this whole time.

Still, Wade doesn’t make a move to take it off. “Look, I get that you’re like a beacon of righteousness or whatever, but it’s really not pretty under here,” he says, before quickly deflecting with a lighter tone. “And you don’t have to prove your love with your virginity, Steven. Your body is sacred.”

Steve scowls at him. “I’ve seen half your face and I still want to kiss it for _some_ reason,” he reminds him. Then shifts in a way he hopes doesn’t come off as sheepish. “And who told you I was a virgin, anyway?”

“A blow job does not a virgin un-make!” Wade exclaims, but he looks a little less like he’s going to bolt at any second. “Also, you have no clue the things I want to do to you. Just saying them out loud could probably kill a nun three states over.”

The blush that creeps over Steve’s face annoys him, he’s almost thirty, for fucks’ sake. “I mean…” He shrugs and bites his lip, not above using honesty as a vessel for playing dirty. “You’d be good to me, right? At least the first time?”

That clearly catches Wade on the chin like Steve meant for it to, leaves him stunned completely silent. Steve doesn’t rush him, just waits as Wade sorts out his own train-wrecked thoughts. Then he watches with his heart pounding in his chest as Wade reaches behind his own head and tugs his mask off entirely.

The view is no worse or better than Steve expected, honestly, even if the solid yellow eyes are sort of a shock. The fact that Wade lets him see him, lets him _have this_ , is more important, leaves him with love stinging the back of his throat.

“I only ever want to be good to you, Steve,” Wade confesses with the kind of seriousness he usually avoids and _Steve loves him_.

Steve steps forward and Wade reaches out to pull him to stand between his legs. He breathes out sharply when Steve presses a kiss to the top of his head, heedless of the mostly-hairless, patchy skin. “I believe you,” he says, then curls down to kiss Wades forehead, the corner of his eye, the side of his nose. “I want to be good to you, too.”

“Like he doesn’t know he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Wade mumbles, not to Steve he realizes, but it’s enough. Steve lands on his back on the bed and Wade’s utility belt hits the floor beside his boots, it’s _more_ than enough.

Wade kisses him and it’s everything.

Steve is pleasantly overheated and half-asleep on Wade’s bare chest when Wade mumbles, breathless and still shocked, “God bless America.”

“Jesus _Christ,_ Wade,” Steve laughs so hard he wakes himself up again.

It still winds up being the best night’s sleep he’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> Wade’s singing “SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
